


Short Circuit

by Acidqueen (syredronning)



Series: Screw Drive series [5]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: BDSM, Fucking Machines, Kinky, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/Acidqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everything can be re-engineered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Circuit

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final part five of the series and the sequel to "Safety Valve".  
> Thanks to Elizabeth Helena for the beta.
> 
> Originally posted December 2004.

McCoy had returned to the fucking machine, again and again. And once in a while, Spock would join him. With time, Spock managed to join him exactly when he was on his most masochistic trip, and never more so than after the incident with the Tholians.

At that time, McCoy definitely had felt guilty for the way he'd behaved toward Spock. It wouldn't be enough to just give himself over to a tormenting fuck; there had to be some additional penance, something special to cleanse him of this special kind of guilt. He'd failed Jim, almost condemning him to suffocating in space, and he'd failed Spock because he hadn't trusted the Vulcan's hunches. Only a true punishment would make him feel better, but all Jim had done was clap his shoulders and toss out a few amused words.

So it would have to be Spock's part to deliver it. McCoy thought about it for two days, but in the end couldn't come up with something better than a medium-sized flogger. There was little problem borrowing it from an old box in the lost-and-found department; few knew that it was there, and those who knew obviously didn't care. McCoy tested it on his arm and thigh, and it had a tangible burn without being overly stingy. Perfect.

He went down to the room with the machines and put a chair next to it, placing the whip prominently over its back. Then he stripped and secured himself to the bench, hoping that Spock would come over. He'd checked the Vulcan's schedule, and he was off-duty. Chances were good as long as Jim didn't get in his way.

And really, Spock arrived punctually. He placed the control with the emergency stop out of McCoy's reach, something he'd never done before, then whipped McCoy hard for a long time. In the end, he started the fucking machine and left.

It took McCoy endlessly to come.

After that, their interaction became smoother. McCoy learned to feel the differences between Spock really annoyed, Spock frustrated, and Spock stressed. He even learned how Spock felt like when he was caring, after the incident with McCoy's illness and Natira.

But they never, ever talked with each other about that, neither inside nor outside the room. It was the unwritten, never-changing rule of the game.

Until Zarabeth.

When McCoy entered the room two days after their return from the ice age, following the advice of a little message he had received, he found the bench already occupied. Spock was sitting on it, nude and shivering.

McCoy raised a brow, already half turning to leave again, but Spock shook his head.

"Doctor...please, stay."

"Alright." McCoy walked into the room, locked the door and faced the Vulcan.

"I never understood your motivation, Doctor," Spock said slowly. "The idea of forgiveness through pain was far outside my frame of reference. But...I have come to understand. And I want to make amends for my actions on the planet."

"You weren't responsible for them, Spock," McCoy said. "You were the last one to realize what was happening to you."

Spock frowned. "You were never responsible for the death of crewmen either, Doctor, and you still wanted to make amends for it."

"True," McCoy had to admit.

"So what is the difference?"

"Maybe...that I didn't start it with the idea of working off my guilt like this. It evolved. It wasn't a conscious decision. I just kept doing it once I'd realized that it worked in a healthy way."

Spock lifted a brow.

"It's an emotional thing," McCoy added lamely.

"So you think that I entered an emotional situation by a logical choice?"

Damn that Vulcan for his sharp mind, McCoy thought inwardly.

"Yes," he said.

"You are correct," Spock said. "But does that render my decision invalid?"

"No. It's just that I don't know if it's the right way to deal with your guilt. You're sure you're not trying to make amends to me, instead of doing something for yourself?"

"Is there that much difference, Doctor?"

Spock's eyes were black, bottomless, piercing through him. There had to be a good answer, but McCoy didn't know it. This was getting too darn close for his taste.

"I can't do it, Spock," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't inflict pain like that."

"But you often do so with words."

McCoy sighed. "That's different. And I pay for it in my own way."

"I do not see the difference. When I was the active one, did I not cause you pain? Is it not logical to reciprocate now, when I offer myself?"

"It's not that easy, Spock." Face it, Len, you wouldn't be able to do it, McCoy thought. You're not able to see beyond the body under your hands. You hurt others so often in your job, when you can't help it. It would be against anything that's holy for you to hurt him now.

McCoy shook his head. "I can't do it, Spock. Don't ask me for it. Please." He didn't wait for Spock's answer, but left the room without another word.

They never again talked about it, and they never again met down there. And when their five year mission ended, all that was left of the machines was a pile of metal and plastic that Scott distributed into the boxes with leftover junk to be sent to the recycling unit.


End file.
